adventures with fiber and life

April 2017

Saturday, April 29, 2017

aka "Another Time I Lied To Children"(Nice, calm photo to distract from this gory tale.)

(Ok, Barbara, you asked for this…)

Warning: Worms were harmed in the making of this story.

The year was 1990-something. Janie and I were doing a garden study with our Pre-K class. It was Worm Week. I had read about a great experiment. Fill a jar with soil, place some worms on top, cover (with air holes), and wrap the jar in dark paper. By the end of the week we would remove the paper and be able to see that the worms had created tunnels all over the jar. On Monday of Worm Week, we made two such jars, and set them in the window and began our wait.

It was such a fun week! We dug for worms and began a worm bin out by the garden. We demonstrated how worms make compost by putting loops of tape all over the kids' bodies and let them wiggle through the recycling, mixing and moving the papers in a giant pile. They pretended to be baby birds as Janie and I "flew" to each of them with pieces of licorice dangling from our mouths to feed the chirping hatchlings. There was the great snack of chocolate pudding, with crushed Oreos on top and hidden gummy worms inside. We sang that Muppet song about the strange sound made by worms.

And then it was Friday, time for the unveiling of the worm tunnels. Before the students arrived I took a peek, and found the most disgusting stinky moldy mess of dirt and decomposing worms you've ever seen. They had been baked and melted by the sun in the window. We frantically cleaned the jars out, got fresh dirt, dug up new worms to put into the fake tunnels we made with pencils, and later "oohed" and "aahed" in amazement with the children.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Ok, I'm a little obsessed with this red work, even took it to painting class today. Stitching a rhythm as she talked about thinking before every mark. So much to learn.

This piece below is from years ago, at my old job. Fourth grade was studying Colonial times. We chopped and chopped piles of beets, then simmered muslin in them all day, stinking up the office kitchen. The cloth came out of the pot a vivid red. I told the kids I'd take it home to rinse and we'd begin stitching on it the next day. All the color rinsed away, barely a pink. Secretly, I ran to the store and bought some Rit, and redyed it. They never knew.

And remembering that beet smell . . . The time when Janie made thickened clear gelatin in mixing bowls, flipped them out on trays for our Pre-K class, and gave them eye-droppers and a bowl full of beet juice to inject into the clear jiggly blobs. It was like watching open heart surgery- the smell, the red veining through the gelatin . . . it was disgusting, and the kids were thrilled.

And Grandma Blanche's home canned beets . . . that pretty dark purple, that I really hated the taste of. She served them a lot. Canning is big in my memories of her- beets, beans, corn, hominy, peaches, pears, and the jam. We would crawl through the fence behind her place, past her sweet peas, gladiolas and baskets of fuchsias, and wander into the field next to the trailer park where she lived. There we would fill our beach buckets with blackberries for her to cook up.

Now my mom carries on with the jam. Moon counts on a box of it every year for Christmas, and has it on toast almost every day. Sometimes they're from the raspberry bushes that grow on the other side of Mom's fence.

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Coming home after the second day of field trips . . . wishing for a coke, but making more tea instead, too tired to stitch, move, think . . . and then there was a need to stitch blue on red. I am not usually drawn to red, it's fine as an accent, but not front and center.

There are not a lot of words to share. Some things are hard, some are very good, most are fine. Today, writing to Grace, I realized that having all of these be true is kind of beautiful.

So, today, this red. Red on walnut & tea dyed cloth, with indigo muslin for the other side. It was very satisfying, just as I imagined. The thread is also indigo dyed, a gift. I expect that it may bleed when washed. I hope so.

Monday, April 24, 2017

All week the sketchbook was filled with doodles of caves. Just the openings. Their insides remaining a mystery. Growing up my parents would refer to my bedroom as one, calling out, "She's going to hide in her cave!" as I stomped up the seventeen stairs.

It was a place where anything and everything could be imagined and hoped for.

This one is still being created in the glow of one of Jude's silky moons.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Pieces of peace arrived the other day . . . from Liz. With a generous thoughtful spirit, she is stitching these little pins full of heart and sending them out to many. I was touched and grateful to receive three of these small jewels. Liz's tiny stitches are a marvel. (You can read more about her search for and makings of peace here.)

One has been pinned to the Word cloth that hangs above the desk. It's right at eye-level as a sweet reminder. Another is for wearing, especially to school where so many of the children need help imagining a happy calm place.

The third will be a gifted gift to a special woman- a teacher who is working with a group of children that life has been quite unfair to. She is such a lovely kind giving soul, who cares so deeply. I think she and Liz would be kindreds.

Liz also sent along some of her dyed leftovers from her makings (see the top photo). The indigo piece has been placed on a bit of the beautiful linen Michelle sent, they are melting together with stitches. (I love how fabrics that are true (all natural and of good quality) do that.

I wonder what peace-filled something will come into view through this window?

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Newest socks, in the color way "Bowie," and I've lost the label to tell you what company the yarn came from, sorry.

Their making was helped by this great gift, a handy-dandy needle holder made by Els. A way to keep those tiny double pointed needles from slipping out of their stitches, poking holes in the bottom of the knitting bag or getting lost. Life, or at least knitting, is so much easier now, Els, thank you ever so much!

A serendipitous moment came while knitting on these. They came along to that island baseball game a couple of weeks ago. Happily stitching away, with thoughts of David Bowie drifting in and out, along with the lyrics to "Space Oddity" (which our group sang a while back), while watching the game in the sunshine. Between innings, I pulled out a book a friend gave me the night before, All These Wonders: True Stories About Facing the Unknown, and began the next story . . . It was by a woman who had become David Bowie's hairdresser, and had helped him to create the Ziggy Stardust look. I love it when the dots of life connect.

So, now these socks hold Els, baseball, a lovely island day, David/Ziggy, a wonderful book and the friend who gave it, luckily I have big feet!

(P.S. Deb G., this book is at the top of my list right now, and it's pretty to boot!)

Monday, April 17, 2017

There were three walks with friends (amidst all the beautiful blooming that is going on in Seattle), staying up late, sleeping in late, Thai food and popcorn with a girlfriend-while we talked and talked about how we see ourselves, who we really are, and how to get from one to the other? (There may have been some wine involved), and lots of stitching.

I rarely know where a piece is going at the start. Whether it will be sea, sky, home or abstract thread wanderings. There's been a lot of that last one lately. In stitch and mind. Hardly knowing what day it is or where I'm going.

For example: On Friday (which was neither the 13th, Saturday, or Sunday- all of which I believed to be true at different times that day). Following an appointment, I headed towards a grocery store. Wanted a lemon to add to my dinner plans. Part way there, decided to go to a different store, part way there, decided to go to yet another store. While checking out of the third store, realized I had forgotten the lemon. Got the lemon. Went home, made dinner, ate dinner, and was cleaning up after dinner, when I spotted the untouched lemon on the counter. Maybe it's vacation brain? I hope so.

Here I was thinking of Jude's Wishing Stars . . . built around a small scrap of pale blue damask, combining some of the different stitches she shares in her Feel Free Learning Center- thread beads, split backstitch, wrap, and running. Grandma Blanche taught me embroidery stitches forty something years ago, but Jude's teachings have layered those lessons with gifts of creativity, possibility and understanding. What more could you wish for?